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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28062711">One Of Those Crazy Girls</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/arabelladances/pseuds/arabelladances'>arabelladances</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Girls (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Break Up, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:28:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,592</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28062711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/arabelladances/pseuds/arabelladances</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An NYC socialite with a raincloud above her head falls in love with rising star Adam Sackler, but the tabloids only want to ruin it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adam Sackler/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>One Of Those Crazy Girls</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a one-shot I've been drumming up for weeks. I'm convinced I met my Adam Sackler and now that we've parted ways, writing this is cathartic to dealing with the aftermath. Here's a way more interesting attempt at a story, inspired by "One of those Crazy Girls" by Paramore. xo</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There were plenty of words used to describe Nicola Nova in nearly every gossip magazine and tabloid to hit the stands. It was damn near routine to see one with her face or name plastered on the cover, but today seeing one seemed to strike a nerve deeper than she'd ever felt. Perhaps it was because the woman sitting opposite her on the subway was reading it shamelessly, or maybe it was the fact that it was 4 PM and she wasn't able to cope with alcohol or an endless night of partying just yet. That was Nic's favorite coping mechanism, numbing everything and pushing it all away with bubbly and grenadine, and with nights filled with numb lips and drink stained red bottom heels. All made seemingly complete with a group of vapid friends she didn't feel close to anymore. <br/>Whatever the reason was for that very sobering pang in her heart, she couldn't avoid it. It settled into her chest and made a home for itself, right in the center where it could not be ignored. There would be no swerving reality for now. Her deep green eyes stared right at that cover as the feeling churned inside of her. <br/><i>'Nicola Nova continues the party solo.'</i><br/>The photo they'd chosen was a particularly cheeky one from a week ago. She'd worn a pink dress made of satin that looked like something straight out of a music video made in 1998. There was a smile plastered on her face, glitter all over her exposed skin, and a cowboy hat to match the dress. As she studied the photo she had to admit, she did appear happy. She seemed as though she was having the time of her life. When she really looked into her own eyes, she could see the pain. No one else knew her well enough to notice, there wasn't anyone that she let close enough to see beyond the façade. At least not anymore. "Solo" was one word to describe that emptiness she'd been trapped inside of since she'd last seen Adam Sackler. The more appropriate term was desolate.</p>
<p>Nic was most often touted as a socialite with a wild party girl reputation but Hollywood thrived on scandal. They'd always go with the juicier narratives over the facts. So, Nicola Nova, who was a well trained dancer, actress and owner of her own line of bedazzled cell phone cases was known mostly as the wild child of Nolan Nova, respected businessman and owner of a chain of hotels. She'd starred in a few indie flicks, studied dance at a prestigious New York school, and managed to strike deals with retail carriers to sell her phone accessories. She made her own money, worked hard, and when the work was done she treated herself to exuberant nights out. They were often fueled by liquor and outrageous antics, and that's the part that stuck. That was the scandal the public latched onto and constantly ingested about her. <br/>Her mind deliberated on that magazine headline multiple times. They were referring to him, to Adam Sackler. "Solo" in this instance meant without him by her side. Adam was a rare talent, an up and coming actor with a reputation to build and uphold. Nic met him about a year ago when they starred alongside one another in an indie film. It was a film about a couple's road trip to see a graveyard for old neon signs no longer in use, and the chemistry they had wasn't just on camera. In fact, Nic found Adam downright infectious. He had this way of stealthily seeping into even the most mundane of everyday tasks. She would sit in the makeup chair as the artists fussed over every detail and Adam would say something crass to make her laugh. The two of them hit up the craft services table and rated the snacks one by one. Even after filming was over he always found a way to linger around her trailer. The scenes they acted out almost felt real to her, as if the characters were mirror images of what the two of them could be. <br/>She'd come to learn a lot about him over that period of filming. Past relationships, his sobriety, his passions and his dreams. Nic shared parts of herself as well. She'd confided things she'd never wanted anyone to know before. Childhood, life as a silver spoon kid, her experiences at dance school, where she wanted to be in ten years. When filming wrapped the two of them found themselves back in New York City, but not exactly on their separate ways. Adam and Nicola saw each other more and more each week, until she somehow convinced him to be her date to some bougie event her dad forced her into. That's when the tabloids really ramped up the coverage of their connection. It's also when the tabloids drove that connection down into a ball of flames, forcing it to hit the ground and meet it's end. </p>
<p>The magazines portrayed Nic and Adam as a good-time girl, and a movie star in the making lost in a whirlwind romance. There were photos snapped of them in clubs, strolling around the city with their giant grins of contentment, hand in hand while blowing cash at every place they stopped. There were some particularly infamous photos of them on the balcony of her home where a paparazzi stood and photographed them during what they called "steamy intimate moments". Beyond those photos and stories strung along with them was something far more precious. Innocent, even. <br/>The photo of the two of them at the club, where he had carried her over his shoulder to the car because she'd broken her shoe. She looked a mess, but they'd been dancing and laughing all night. Adam didn't want her to be barefoot in the middle of the city, and the slap on the ass the photo captured was his way of keeping her still in his grasp so she wouldn't fall. The photo captured of them strolling around the city while holding hands was on the day that he had convinced Nic to stop to browse what street vendors had to offer, and buy something from them. It was a day she treasured genuinely. By the end of their trip she ended up with a fabulous caricature of Adam, plenty of fresh produce, and flowers that he'd picked out for her. The paparazzi failed to capture the moment when he placed one of the flowers behind Nic's ear and kissed her forehead, or when she'd stuffed large bills into the tip jars of the vendors. That morning on the balcony wasn't exactly innocent. Yeah, they were fucking and she was bent over the railing in just a robe, but it was also the first time she felt romantically loved. People had told her those words before of course, but it never really meant anything to her. She didn't <i>feel</i> it. That very morning he'd told her he loved her, and she didn't panic or brush it away like she normally would. Instead she said it back, and they'd been lost in one another from that moment until they fell asleep again that night. Not a single publication was calling to ask her about that part. <br/>The real nail in the coffin? That one had come when a photograph hit the news depicting what looked like a relapse. <br/><i>Sinning Socialite triggers relapse for Sackler?</i><br/>It looked bad. There they were, cozied up in a booth at a restaurant with a bottle of wine. There were two glasses on their table, and the waitress had filled both without asking. It wasn't even a big deal really, he'd just allowed it to sit there untouched. When Nic had finished her first glass she reached for his and sipped, replacing it with just a little left. That was precisely the photo they needed. It probably provided someone with a huge payday over at TMZ, but it ruined everything for her. <br/>She often replayed what happened the next morning in her head. Nic could still see it all unfold clearly, Adam taking the call from his agent and informing him of the breaking scandalous news. He was shirtless, loose fitting shorts hanging off of his hips so low there was almost nothing left for the imagination. The sunlight filtered in through his bedroom window and Nicola watched as tiny particles of dust danced through the rays. Her dark ginger hair was splayed all around, and Adam was mumbling ridiculously filthy things against her neck. <br/>A groan came from him once his phone began to ring. He let it go once but the caller dialed again. When he answered his face changed, and she could hear the guy on the other line speaking loudly. Adam glanced over at her from his seat on the edge of his bed. He must have known how loud it was, that she could likely hear everything being said. Nic sat up onto her elbows, simultaneously trying not to listen and to drink in every word of the one-sided conversation. <br/>"I don't think it's a good idea. She's going to ruin you." the caller said. <br/>"You know it's not true. Nothing they ever put out there is the full story, or even what actually fucking happened." his dark eyes stayed glued to her as he reasoned with his agent. <br/>"Yeah, it doesn't matter what I know. It matters what they say, and what everyone thinks, Adam. I don't like it. I don't like her." Adam's face twisted slightly, readying to defend Nicola, but he was cut off. "She's crazy. Everyone reads about it, everyone knows. She's a crazy girl. You should cut it off now before it starts to hurt your career." <br/>The phone call ended there as Adam's agent hung up. The room felt like it was spinning suddenly, her brain was working double time. A stupid tabloid story? So what? They weren't right, they were rarely right when it came to rumors about Nic. But then again, it wasn't about her anymore. That's what happens when you let someone in, when you let someone get close. It becomes about them, about the us. She sat up completely, then stood as quickly as her woozy state would allow. <br/>"I'm sorry. Don't-" Adam sighed out of frustration and threw his phone, making it slide across the room with a bang. "Don't listen to him. Everything's fine, he's just panicking."<br/>Nicola said nothing in return. She stood frozen in place, feeling as though her skin was going to crawl right off of her bones at any moment. The shirt she wore suddenly felt tight even though it was practically a dress on her. It was one of his, one she'd decided to sleep in the night before. As she swallowed down the lump forming in her throat, she finally looked at Adam. His freckles, that stray strand of dark hair that always fell in his face. She wanted to remember it all, commit it to her memory for safe keeping.<br/>"Maybe he's right." she murmured softly. Her lips stayed parted as her eyes averted to the floor, displaying the shock she was feeling. <br/>"What?" Adam sounded furious. His brows were knitted together and his hands went to his face where they dragged down, followed by a loud groan. "No. No, we aren't doing this. We both know what happened. It's just a stupid fucking gossip rag!"<br/>Nicola took in a deep breath that felt sharp, painful. Her green orbs were still gazing at the floor as she attempted to gather her thoughts. <br/>"I don't wanna do this anymore." <br/>His arms went to his sides and offered a defensive shrug. <br/>"What, Nic. Do what? You fucking don't wanna do what anymore?"<br/>"I don't..." she breathed in again, the air hitching in her throat. "I don't want to do this to you. I don't want you to live this shitty fucking nightmare. It isn't going to stop here. It never does, one minute I'm forcing you off the wagon, the next I'm going to be the reason you pass on a role. I'll be the catalyst for your non existent downfall. I should go." <br/>He chased after her. He called her name, screamed it as she ran off, down the sidewalk and back toward the East side. Adam called her phone, sent her texts. With every one she got she used all the energy she had to ignore them. It was too painful to face. She would always be that person. The sinning socialite, the wild child with nowhere to go but down. She'd slept a lot after that day. Two weeks of waking up only to attempt eating something before giving up halfway and going back to bed. Two weeks of forcing herself to shower every once in awhile, two weeks of lying around in that shirt of his she ran off in. <br/>The third week Nic was back out, living up to the names that they'd all given her. With friends who were more like acquaintances, drinking and dancing, living it up with whoever was willing to partake. None of them were Adam, though. None of them placed their hands on either side of her face and looked into her eyes to ensure she wasn't getting too drunk too fast. None of them were going to carry her to bed even though she could walk just fine, and none of them were going to tell her that she looked like a god damn renaissance painting when the sunlight flooded the bedroom come morning. The more she tried to avoid it, the more she reminded herself she was miserable without him. Now it was week four and she was sitting on a subway with one destination. She just had to get out of that apartment, she had to breathe that slimy New York City air, she had to give in. Nic had taken this exact trip before, nearly every night since she'd ran away from Adam. But now it didn't feel right. It filled her with doubt, with anxiety. All thanks to greatest enemy. Nicola Nova. Or at least, the projected image of her. <br/>The hours rolled by as she sat silently in that subway car, staring out the window and focusing on nothing. The patron with the magazine had left long ago, but Nic just kept riding until the last stop, and traveled right back again. It was nearly 7 when she decided on her destination, peeled herself from the seat, and got out of the car at her stop. No one had noticed her that whole time thanks to her oversized hoodie and sweatpants, and likely her despondent nature. There was no makeup on her face, no fake happiness, no entourage following her as she roamed the sidewalks.  The air was thick, barely warm and had a hint of freshly fallen rain to it. The streets were still damp from the downfall, creating a lovely reflection of light in puddles from the lamps beginning to flicker on. Her boots carried her to a building where she stopped and stared up into a window. The lights were on but there were no shadows to be seen. At the end of every night she'd spent galivanting around town she'd end up here at Adam's building. Staring, but not moving close. Not buzzing in or throwing rocks at the glass. Gazing longingly and wondering what they would be doing behind those curtains if she hadn't stormed off. <br/>Nicola reached into the pocket of her sweater and pulled out her phone. She still hadn't blocked his number, and if she wanted to she could just call. Text. Anything. But contacting him would only hurt him, right? <br/><b>I can see you, kid.</b><br/>The text appeared on the screen and startled her out of her thoughts. Perhaps she could fool strangers around the city, but he was not fooled himself. When Nicola lifted her head and looked to the window she now saw a shadow. Adam's shadow. His perfect arms and that hair that fell everywhere. The window opened and he popped out from behind the curtain, looking as handsome as ever. He didn't smile, didn't say anything, and neither did she, for a few moments. Not until the silence between them became too heavy against her ears, and the longing to hear his voice grew.<br/>"Hi," she croaked out, realizing that was likely the first word she'd spoken all day. In response Adam leaned forward and put his elbows onto the windowsill. He held his head in his hands as she looked down upon her. He wasn't saying anything and the feeling of doubt crept up again. That ache in her chest that had made a home was beginning to grow. This was a mistake. Every night she came here, it had been a mistake. A sigh fell from her mouth and she turned on her heel, ready to bolt all over again. <br/>"Wait," he called out. <br/>A cringe spread across Nic's face and she turned to face the man yet again. With a few short steps she was directly under him, peering upward from behind her hair and hood. <br/>"What the fuck are you doing?"<br/>"I," she began to speak, but had to clear her throat to lift the rasp. "Fucking hell, Adam. I've been here like every night. I just, I stand here. I don't know."<br/>"So you don't answer my calls, you don't text, you go off and pretend I fucking don't exist anymore and then you come here? Every night? That's bullshit, kid."<br/>"I hate it when you call me kid."<br/>"I know." With a heavy sigh and a few more curse words under his breath he left the window. It was still open and the curtains were blowing gently. Nicola stood there, keeping her focus on that window for any sign of him coming back. Her head turned quickly when she heard the door to the building. There he was. Adam, in his jeans slung too low and no shirt on. With that soft hair and those enchanting dark eyes. <br/>"What, you didn't have a fuckin, what, a bender tonight to parade around for the dicks at OK magazine?" he asked. She could sense it was a joke with a little sincerity behind it. <br/>"Fuck off, kid." she smiled gently, but it made the corners of her mouth ache. Not to mention that anchor currently residing in her chest. "You know how it is. Believe half of what you see. I'm only as crazy as you think I am." <br/>Adam was scanning her face, looking at how tired she seemed and at the trace of sadness in the way she carried herself. His expression softened and his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. With one big step forward and a swift movement, he had pulled her into his chest and squeezed her with both arms. <br/>"I miss you." Nic mumbled into his chest, nose and lips pressed into his bare skin. He smelled just the same, of musk and the faintest waft of manly deodorant. The same scent she'd fallen asleep inhaling peacefully for months on end, the scent that made her head swim in bliss. <br/>"I miss you too." Nicola felt his lips press against her head after those words. "You fuckin' kidding me? I keep finding your stupid little hair clips and your god damn socks all over my place. I can't escape missing you."<br/>Nicola laughed softly, lips grazing his shoulder. It just felt right to be there, it felt like they were meant to be together. Like they were allowed to be happy, and why not with one another? <br/>"Look Nic, I don't care. I don't give a fuck about the magazines. I don't give a shit what my agent says, I don't care if someone is hiding in a bush right now snapping photos," He stopped for a moment and let go of his hold on the woman. Both hands raised up into the air, arms stretched out. "YA HEAR THAT? GET YOUR FUCKING PAYCHECK. THE SINNING SOCIALITE IS ABOUT TO GET RAILED BY THE SOBRIETY KING." Nicola reached up and pulled his arms down. Her laugh was horse and strained, and tears began to well in her eyes. "I don't care. I want you to come back. Come back to me, we'll watch that shitty cartoon movie you like, you can prance around like a beautiful fucking nude fairy princess, and then sit on my face like it's your throne."<br/>Coming from Adam Sackler, those were the most romantic words she'd ever heard. They made the tears spill over her eyelids and down her face, meeting the curve of her smiling lips. <br/>"I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you met me, I'm sorry that now you have to go through all of this shit because of me, and I'm sorry because I'm not leaving. You're stuck with me. Your very own crazy girl." Nic shrugged and shoved her hands into the pocket of that hoodie. She was waiting for something. Not permission exactly, but for a final invitation of sorts. <br/>"You're not crazy, kid. You're god damn otherworldly." Adam smiled down at her for a brief moment before wrapping both arms around her waist and slinging her effortlessly over his shoulder. Nic squealed with delight, and let those happy tears flow as he whisked her away to the safe haven that was his apartment.</p>
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